June – 9/2016 – Runs with Scissors

And here we are with yet another Tinder date. I chatted with June for only a short time before we exchanged numbers. We were texting for a bit and it was going well. She seemed fun and age appropriate. I have been trying to spend time with women in my age range but it’s been a struggle. If you read my last blog post, (Rebecca, Dark Wings of Destiny) you can tell that hasn’t been working all that well.

I was trying to figure out a day we could meet for a drink. I told her I was off on Saturdays so we could meetup then. She said that is usually the day she likes to wander, and I told her I enjoyed the same. She asked if I had a dog, and I told her I did not. She said she’d supply the dog. Whatever. But Saturday came and I didn’t hear anything. I reached out and she said she said she had already wandered and done her errands earlier in the day. In Rittenhouse no less! But I kind of didn’t care anyway. I was happy sipping a drink and watching Netflix at home by then.

We continued texting into the evening until finally she said she wanted to talk on the phone. I haven’t done that with anyone yet on Tinder and was a little apprehensive. Not that I mind talking on the phone, but I didn’t think it was necessary.

My phone rings and I miss the call. I call her right back and we connect. So we’re chatting away. I can tell she’s drinking which is not a bad thing. Loosens up the tongue. During our conversation she begins to tell me about her day. Apparently, she was standing on the edge of her bathtub cleaning the walls. She has one of those shower head attachments that can be removed and are connected to a flexible hose. She’s using the shower head to rinse down the shower walls and everything is getting wet. Well she loses her footing and begins to fall. Now, we have all heard about accidents in the home, and people falling in their bathrooms having bad injuries and even death. So she slips off the tub edge and slams butt first onto or into the toilet. I don’t know what her bathroom layout is but the commode must be in close proximity to the tub. It sort of breaks her fall but when she hit it she broke the tank. Water goes everywhere. The shower head is also still running. The tank immediately evacuates its contents onto the floor. Good thing that’s where the clean water is located! She is in a great deal of pain but thankfully didn’t hit her head. She scrambles to her feet and manages to get the shower turned off and then goes for the wall spigot behind the toilet. She cranks that shut and the water stops. What a mess! But she is okay and escapes with only a bruise on her backside. But it’s a nasty bruise. (She later showed me a pic) The whole thing is a bit funny and harrowing but she is okay. It could have been a lot worse.

So the conversation is going well and I’m really enjoying it. She is smart, and funny. It’s a lively chat. I’ll bear that in mind in the future. June tells me that people can sound great in text and once you get them on the phone they fall flat. Why didn’t I think of this? In this modern world where everyone texts and does loads of social media, people don’t have the conversation skills anymore. But once you get someone on the phone, it’s a great way to screen out the people who can’t hold a solid conversation. Better to find out someone is a dullard before you’re stuck out in public with them on a date. So I may pull this move in the future.

She tells me she wants to meet up that night. I tell her, it’s 9pm and I’m down to a T-shirt and a pair of shorts and I’m not getting back into uniform for anyone. She says: “Oh, you’re a fuddy duddy.”

If she only knew…

She says she’s been invited to go see some band play at some place on Van Pelt Street at 10pm. Again, I thank her for the invite and tell her I’m not going. Had it been Rebecca, I would already be at Van Pelt waiting for her. I’m such a fickle asshole. She’s drinking more and so am I and it’s really going well. She’s a spitfire and a blast to talk to. I tell her I’m available Sunday after 4pm and we agree to meet for a drink. So the drinking and chatting goes on and on. Now she’s smoking marijuana as well. She decides that she’s rather talk to me on the phone than go see this band on Van Pelt. I’m surprisingly enjoying our conversation and am looking forward to meeting her. She sounds super fun. I learned a lot about her in that conversation. She has two children, a boy and a girl. She was married for many years and it ended long ago, and was in a relationship for 7 years after that with some man who cheated on her and left. Or so I thought. But as the truth serum she was gulping down took hold, the truth was revealed. Apparently this other woman was someone they invited into their bed for a three-way. I suppose June’s boyfriend took a liking to their little plaything and ran off with her. June described the girl as younger, fat and covered in tattoos. This all sounds gross to me, but who am I to judge the dalliances of others. I can tell June is a very sexual woman, which is fine. At her age she should be over all of her mind and body issues. She’s drunk and horny. I think this gal has led a wild life. But I like that. I have had a very colorful, action packed adventurous life, and I like people who have had the same. It creates a rich history for a person and they are always more interesting. But, at some point well into the call she simply falls asleep on the phone. I’m like; “Hello? June? Are you there?”

Crickets.

I hang up and look at the length of the call on my phone. We were chatting for 4 hours and 30 minutes! I’m stunned. I’ve never been on the phone that long. (That I can remember) I head off to bed.

The Date

Sunday morning around 8:30am I get a text from her that says simply: “Good Morning.” I have a bunch of stuff to do so I don’t respond. Not to be rude, but I have to get ready and I don’t want to start another all day conversation until I have the time. Around 11:00am I respond, with: “Hello.” She responds at 4:45pm with: “What a lovely day!” Of course I go with my main objective: “Are we meeting for a drink?” She says: “You would think after a four-hour call I would retain details.” Well, she did fall asleep at the end. So I go again with: “Are we meeting for a drink?” She says yes and when? I tell her I am available now. She says she has to wait for her daughter to come pick up the dog and asks if after 6pm would work. I tell her that’s fine. (It would be about an hour from now) So I head to Square 1682 and grab a cider and chat with the bartender and servers.

At 6:15 she tells me she is on her way. She rolls in around 6:30. Here’s the thing. She’s 5’2″ and sturdy. I like tall and short women. I prefer tall because it translates to a longer leg factor. But a petite woman can be just as beautiful. It makes no difference to me. But I realize compared to her photos, this woman before me doesn’t measure up. Hands tell a great deal about a person. June rode horses her whole life. Her hands are strong. Stronger than mine. In her Tinder pics you never get a really good clear shot of her face. She looks like there has been quite a bit of mileage on this one. She has a bit of a nose thing happening too. Normally I like a girl with an interesting proboscis, but hers just looks masculine. Not horrible, but a little rough. Aged. She’s a fun girl but just not attractive enough.

So we hang out and we’re having a good time chatting and drinking and laughing at the bar. She would be a good girl to have as a friend that maybe you occasionally fool around with, but I can’t see me pursuing her. Which kind of sucks. I mean… I’m already struggling to feel energy for Valerie. (Valerie – Love Me Tinder) Maybe June could hang as a friend to drink with at some good dives. She said she liked going to places like that. I would dig that as well.

Okay, so maybe I’ll keep her around and we’ll see what happens. But girlfriend is off the table.

We decide to wrap it up at Square 1682 after a couple of hours. The bill comes and again, the wallet comes out but she never pulls out her card. And forgive me dear readers, but after two incidents like this with Valerie, and the fact that this woman is not really that hot, I say…”Little help?”

I see what appear to be credit cards in the wallet but she goes for cash and it looks like it’s only seven or eight dollars. It’s 2016. Going out and drinking and eating like Gods is very expensive in this town. Even my much younger ex-girlfriend always kicked in unless I insisted I pay. (Future post: Anabelle Lee) So I feel bad and a little suspicious at this point so I take like $5 from her and pay the damn bill. I’m not cheap. I’m a very generous man. But in this day and age we all need to help. But I will give you this little spoiler. The very next night, I had a date with a different lady and I paid for her two drinks and her fare home. Sadly, you’ll see another aspect as to why Phicklephilly really is the perfect name for this column. I’m really learning a lot about myself. Try writing down everything you’re up to. it’s eye-opening, enlightening, and most of all funny.

So we leave the bar and she says she lives down in Washington Square. We walk south to Pine and say goodnight. We kiss. It’s sexual. Not your standard goodnight smooch. Some one who sucks on your tongue on your first date digs you. (It wasn’t me who did that) So I know based on our 4 hour drunken conversation and this vibe, it would be effortless for me to close this bit of work. But as Ian Gillam says in the Deep Purple song, “It’s not the kill… It’s the thrill of the chase.”

And damn it if I don’t love that part. So I may hang again with June again, but it will be in the afternoon at McGlinchey’s drinking $2 wines and smoking cigarettes.

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday at 9am EST.

I publish new Dating content every Monday at 9am EST. I publish Updates and bios and stories about related characters, such as male and female friends and acquaintances on Wednesdays at 9am EST.

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